


Carry On: Beauty and the Beast

by kayla96k



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baz as the Beast, Beauty and the Beast AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Violence, Simon Snow as Beauty, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch as the Beast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-04 19:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12174903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayla96k/pseuds/kayla96k
Summary: I wrote the first five chapters of this fic on my tumblr carry-on-kissing-snowbaz (the idea in part inspired by tumblr user ace-artemis-fanartist 's amazing Beauty and the Beast artwork for Snowbaz ~definitely check that out~). I haven't updated it in a very long time but have decided to continue it here. In this story, Simon Snow stumbles upon a foreboding castle while in search of his father. Once he discovers of his father's imprisonment, he volunteers to take his place as Baz's (the beast) prisoner. While he is there, he learns the truth about his father and discovers that perhaps his destiny, and his soulmate, lay outside of the small town he'd always known. Long story short, it's a Carry On Beauty and the Beast AU. I hope you enjoy :)





	1. The Castle

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are reading my AU for the first time, I really hope you enjoy <3 To those of you who've already read all five chapters, thank you so much for sticking with me, I promise to have an update posted soon :)

**Simon**

The castle loomed darkly against the grey sky, a shadowy figure in the crisp wilderness. Simon shivered lightly in the cold weather, rubbing his arms against the wind. He wasn’t sure why he had come here; it wasn’t like he actually owed his father anything. But he had tracked him to this desolate place and felt the familiar need to keep his father close to him.

His footsteps crunching in the snow were the only audible sound. The place was incredibly eerie, even if it was beautiful. He had no idea what his father was doing in a place like this or why he hadn’t reached out to him. But it seemed dangerous; Simon’s magic swirled close to the surface of his skin.

As he reached the doorway he paused. Something told him that once he entered this place he would not come back the same. If he wanted to, he could walk away, let his father conduct his strange business in this creepy castle, and return to life in the village. Agatha was waiting for him there with a thousand promises in her brown eyes. There were a million reasons for him to walk away.

He took a deep breath and pushed the heavy doors open. His heart beat rapidly as he waited for something to jump out at him. As the seconds ticked by though, he noticed that the entryway was empty. With a frown, he stepped through the threshold.

The room was dank, as if it hadn’t seen sunlight in many years. As he stepped further into the castle he noticed a large sitting area to his left. Seemingly on its own accord, the fireplace lit up with bright orange flames. Simon jumped back a step and put his hand over the hilt of his sword. But nobody attacked him from behind the large fireplace.

Simon had been raised around magic his whole life, loved it even, yet he felt there was something wrong about this place. It was as if the castle dripped in something heavy, a kind of twisted magic hung in the air.

“Look Niall! I told you he would come!” He heard someone hiss behind him.

Simon froze, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard the voice.

“Oh, shut up Dev!” Another voice whispered.

Simon whipped around, sure that he would discover who was speaking and found himself utterly confused. Behind him, on the stairs, lay a clock and candelabra, as if left there by mistake.

“What in Merlin…” Simon muttered.

The place was starting creep him out. Figuring it would be useful in the dark space, Simon picked up the candelabra and started up the grand staircase. The castle was obviously quite large and, in its own eerie way, very grand; but Simon could not understand what it was doing in the middle of the woods. Had his father, deluded by his own power, built a castle in forested isolation to pretend to be king? Simon had to admit that it was not that big of a stretch for his father. It didn’t, however, explain the strange whispering. Or the dark magic.

He found a corridor off to his left and walked up the stone steps, knowing that his father had a tendency to seek high ground. Eventually it became clear that he was in the dungeons of the castle, something that would normally cause him to go back to the main staircase. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was getting closer to his father with every step. Eventually he turned a corner and found the one cell that wasn’t empty in the vast tower.

In the corner his father lay balled up, his green cloak stained by the water dripping from the stone ceiling. Simon drew in an audible breath. Stirred by the noise, David Snow turned and looked at his son, his eyes blank. Then he jumped out of his slumped position and threw himself at the bars.

“Oh my son! _My son!_ Thank Merlin you’ve found me!”

“Father…what happened to you?”

His father’s eyes shifted to look behind him.

“I was looking for something in the woods…I got lost. Eventually I found this place and decided to rest here for a bit. But Simon, my boy, there’s something terrible in this place.”

Simon glanced around him.

“Yeah I know. I can feel the dark magic here.”

_“No!”_ His father yelled, grabbing Simon’s jacket through the bars, _“You don’t understand!_ There’s a thing here, an evil creature! He’s the one who locked me up!”

Simon wondered if his father had hit his head.

“I’m sure he was a horrible man if he could do something like this to you father, but let’s not get carried away.”

His father’s eyes widened and his face went white. Weakly, he let go of Simon and backed away from him, his eyes focused on something behind Simon. His legs began to shake.

“Not a man…” His father trailed off.

Simon felt a chill run down his spine.

“A beast.”

Simon whipped around and came face to face with his father’s captor. He was taller than Simon, enough so to loom over him. His skin was as grey as the sky outside the castle, and his eyes were the same color, if not a little stormier. His hair was jet black and wild about his face, as if he hadn’t cut it in years. All of this, strange as it was, was still human enough.

But the fangs, the horrible, sharp fangs that protruded from his dark red lips were undoubtedly beastly. His expression matched the cruelness of his appearance, a mask of pure and utter rage.

Simon did not know what to call this person, as he somehow had ascertained the creature in front of him was indeed a person. His sword was already drawn, but he had the sinking feeling it would do little against the menacing man in front of him.

_“You dare take up a sword against me? In my own home?”_ The man hissed.

Simon swallowed loudly.

“I-I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that you…well, you surprised me.”

The man studied him.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Simon said.

“Well why haven’t you put your sword down yet? Seeing as you only drew out of bewilderment.”

Simon deliberated. Putting down the sword meant relinquishing his best weapon and left him vulnerable. But keeping it drawn would likely make the man attack. Slowly he sheathed his sword.

“There,” Simon said.

The man sneered.

“What are you doing in my castle? I don’t like trespassers.”

Simon clenched his jaw.

“I wasn’t trying to trespass. My father went missing a few days ago and I tracked him here. I didn’t realize the castle was occupied by _you.”_

The man snarled loudly.

“So you’re the son of this disgusting excuse of a man?”

Simon growled back at him.

“How dare you talk about my father like that!” Simon yelled.

The man threw him up onto the bars in a rush, barely exerting himself. Simon had been right to assume that the man was unnaturally strong. He felt his breath rush out of him against the force of the blow.

_“Your father tried to slit my throat in my sleep.”_

Simon wanted to deny it, to say his father would never be capable of such a thing, but he knew that he couldn’t. Unfortunately, Simon could very well imagine his father doing just that sort of thing. The man waited for Simon to defend his father and when it was clear he wouldn’t, set Simon down.

“Simon,” His father whimpered, “He’s a _monster!_ I only thought I was doing the right thing!”

The man laughed darkly.

“Is that so? Is stuffing your bag with dozens of my possessions doing the right thing?”

Simon looked down. His father was not a good man, Simon knew this already, but he was the only family he had left. Whether he liked it or not, he would need to break his father out of the castle.

In a flash Simon had his wand out and pointed at the monstrous man’s throat. He was prepared to say a spell when the man laughed raucously. Simon paused, his mouth hanging open in confusion.

“Going to cast a spell are you? I don’t think you’ll have much luck with that.”

Simon realized that although he could feel his magic, he couldn’t tap into it.

“Why…what’s wrong with this place?”

The man pulled back his upper lip to expose more of his fangs. It was truly a terrible sight, an image that made fear run up the length of Simon’s body.

“It’s cursed. Like me.”

_“What are you?”_ Simon whispered.

Something flitted across the man’s expression, too quick for Simon to decipher. As quickly as it had come, the look left the man’s expression and was replaced by cold disinterest.

“Enough questions. Your father will spend the rest of his life rotting in this cell; I don’t care what you think about it. He committed treason as far as I’m concerned.“

Simon sagged in defeat. The smart move would be to respectfully apologize on behalf of his father and to leave. It was in his best interest to leave his father, and this mysterious man, behind him forever. After all, his father had committed horrible crimes; he deserved to be here.

“I know,” Simon started, “That what my father did was despicable.”

His father moaned weakly in his cell.

“But,” Simon continued, through gritted teeth, “I cannot simply leave him here. I have no hope of beating you in a fight without my magic and I don’t wish for my family name to cause any more violence in your home.”

The man frowned.

“And so?”

“And so…” Simon trailed off, “Punish me instead.”

The man’s eyes widened. From behind him he could hear his father shrieking with happiness. Simon closed his eyes, trying to quell the pain in his chest.

“You would take your father’s place?”

Simon felt his father grab his leg through the bars. He was kissing Simon’s calf.

“Thank you my son. _Oh._ Bless you. I won’t forget this.”

Simon’s throat hurt.

“Yes, I will take his place.”

The man pointed in disgust to his father, who was crying in happiness on his hands and knees.

“You would sacrifice your entire life? For a coward like this?”

“Enough questions,” Simon threw the man’s earlier words back at him, “Just let him go and do what you want with me.”

The man glared at him for a minute, as if he was unwilling to accept Simon’s offer. Eventually though, he pushed Simon aside and unlocked the cell door. His father sprang out and ran down the stairs, without a backwards glance at Simon.

“I’ll come back for you Simon! I swear it,” He heard his father shout out from below.

Simon knew it was a lie. He knew that unless he found some way to escape on his own that he would be stuck here until he died. David Snow was not a good man but he was an even worse father.

The man allowed Simon the dignity of entering the cell on his own as opposed to throwing him in. Keeping eye contact with him, the man closed and locked the cell door.

“Your father is a selfish and cruel man. But you…”

Simon waited for him to continue. With a shake of his head, the man turned away and began to walk down the stone stairway.

“You are a fool.”

With that, the man walked away, leaving Simon completely alone. Sighing, Simon slid down to the floor. He wished he could say that the man was a monster, that he had forced Simon’s hand and treated his father unfairly. But the truth was cruel, and Simon had to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming.

The truth was that his father had deserved what he got.

And the beast had been right; Simon Snow was the biggest fool of all.


	2. The Fall of Petals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be uploading chapters 2-5 today :)

**Baz**

The room was infuriatingly quiet. Baz resisted the urge to throw the table across the room just for the sake of disrupting the stillness. Funnily enough, there had once been a time when he would have killed to have some peace and quiet. But after years of isolation Baz found the silence to be deafening.

The air swirled coolly through the broken windowpanes. Baz wished he could repair the palace, but the curse made sure that the castle would never look as it once had until it was broken. He wondered how much it would disappoint his mother to see her home so neglected and cringed at the thought. There was not much he could do; the enchantress had made sure of that.

He stood up abruptly and stormed over to the rose that had altered his life forever. For a long time he had hated the flower, resented it for all that it represented. But over time he’d become almost fond of it, both of them were running out of time after all. With a sigh he stroked a finger down the glass that encased the dying rose.

“Sir?”

He turned to find Niall waiting in the doorway. It was still strange for Baz, even after all this time, that his best friend had become a candelabra. The guilt he always felt when he saw the consequences of his curse on the castle inhabitants flashed as he studied his friend.

“Yes?”

Niall walked stiffly into the room, his tiny metallic feet clanking.

“I think it might be a good idea to move the prisoner to a private room.”

The last thing that Baz wanted to think about was his prisoner. He had long given up on feeling sympathy for the people who lived beyond the castle, he only had enough left to give to the people he had cursed. Yet he found himself feeling uncomfortable with the idea of keeping Simon a prisoner. It had been the father who Baz had wanted to punish, not the golden haired son.

“I don’t see why.”

“He hasn’t really done anything wrong. I understand he took his father’s sentence. But shouldn’t he be free to carry it out a little more comfortably?” Baz growled.

“His stupidity is criminal enough to warrant a life sentence.”

Dev hoisted himself into the room, his breath heaving in his clock chest.

“I just came to say that I do not support Niall’s suggestion to move the prisoner!”

Baz rolled his eyes.

“How very impressive of you.”

“Oh so I suppose you both want all of this, “ Niall swung his arms dramatically, making his flames dance, “To stay like this forever.”

Dev made a choked exclamation.

Baz narrowed his eyes.

“What are you getting at?”

“Niall I think you’ve said enough,” Dev sputtered.

“I’m saying what if this is the man to break the spell?” Niall said.

Baz stared at him in disbelief. It was true that the spell could only be broken if he fell in love and if that person learned to love him back. But he couldn’t believe Niall had the gall to suggest that the son of an attempted murderer was his soul mate.

“Why would I ever love such an insufferable idiot?”

Niall smirked.

“I saw the way you looked at him, he’s not that bad on the eyes is he?”

Baz grunted by way of response. It was true, Simon was one of the handsomest people Baz had seen. It wasn’t that he was perfect, it was more that his features were interesting. His golden curls were almost brassy in lowlight, a blonde Baz had never seen before. Simon’s skin was dotted with freckles and moles, almost like a paint canvas come to life. It was the eyes though that had caught Baz’s attention. They were a flat blue, nothing very spectacular but there was a fire in them somehow, as if under the surface Simon was the kind of person who burned with life.

“Being attractive doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right you are sir,” Dev said.

Niall clucked angrily.

“Fine. But it’s not as if you have a lot of options at the moment. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that we’re all running out of time.”

Baz looked away from them.

“You know I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then why not give him a chance?” Niall pushed.

Baz smoothed his hair back in order to calm himself. He wanted to yell that it was none of Niall’s business, that he could handle his love life all by himself. But he couldn’t because it wasn’t just his business; he had made it everyone’s business when the enchantress had cast the curse on them all.

“Let’s say I do give him a chance, that I even fall for him. How does it change anything? You should have seen his face when he first saw me.”

“You can be very attractive when you put a little effort into it.”

Baz laughed humorlessly.

“I think the grey skin and fangs are just the tad bit unattractive. Besides, that’s not the big issue is it? I’m a monster, damned.”

Dev frowned but said nothing.

“Sir, you’re thinking of this the wrong way. If he falls for you then you won’t be a monster or damned anymore. All you have to do is show him the man underneath the beast. Show him you can be more.”

Niall said. Baz clenched his jaw.

“I didn’t…It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t want to rush into finding the one, or whatever it’s called.”

“I have candles on my body and metal legs,” Niall gestured to himself, “With all due respect sir, nothing is as it was supposed to be. We just need to figure out a way forward.”

Baz studied his two best friends carefully. He needed to try, if not for himself then for his friends.

“Fine, give him the private room. But have Penny keep an eye on him while you two prepare dinner. I don’t want him escaping.”

Niall clanked his arms together excitedly.

“Wonderful! Thank you sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Baz watched Niall and Dev leave the room.

“I am not sure about that,” He mumbled, even though he knew Niall was too far away to hear.


	3. Dinner Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are actually taking longer to post than I had thought they would lol. I promise to have the rest of the chapters up soon though <3

**Simon**

Simon dragged his cloak tighter around himself. It was incredibly cold in the cell, the open window letting in snow and chilly air. Simon wasn’t sure he was going to last very long in this cold without his magic.

He wondered why the castle was cursed the way it was. The magic hanging over the wells felt sticky, making for an overwhelmingly claustrophobic sensation. Whoever had cast the spell had to have been powerful. Simon was regarded by many as one of the most powerful magicians to have lived and even he couldn’t access his magic here.

Escape did not seem like a possibility. The walls were too high to jump from. Plus, Simon wasn’t sure where he would go if he did manage to escape. Back to the father who had abandoned him here? Back to the village that seemed to be moving on quite easily without him? He wasn’t sure there was anything worth going back to in that place. Still, anything was better than a cold prison cell.

He heard strange shuffling noises coming from the stairwell. The sound of two people bickering was soon audible. After a minute or so the two voices were close enough that Simon could make out what they were saying.

“Niall I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You heard him Dev, he said to go ahead and give him a better room.”

Simon sat up.

“Hello?” He called out.

“Ah yes, hello! My name is Niall.”

Simon froze as the candelabra he’d seen in the entrance when he’d first walked into the castle strolled over to the cell bars and bowed in front of him. A second or so later the clock he’d seen before strutted over and glared at the candelabra. Simon wondered if the cold had finally gotten to his head.

“Um, my name is Simon,” He said weakly.

The one called Dev frowned at him.

“Yes we know that already.”

Niall, the candelabra, turned to smack the clock with one of his burning candles.

“Don’t be rude! He’s our guest after all.”

Simon shook his head in confusion.

“I’m sorry, but I think I need a bit of an explanation. This castle has talking household items? And since when did I become a _guest?”_

Niall glanced at Dev uncomfortably.

“Well, the curse, it uh, made all the people living in the castle into household items. And I suppose you are still technically a prisoner but to us you’re a guest.”

Niall said.

“How lucky for you,” Simon grumbled.

“Hey,” Dev began angrily, “Did you not hear the part about us being cursed? Nobody here has it easy.”

Simon pursed his lips.

“I suppose not.”

Niall unlocked the door and gestured towards the stairs.

“Let’s not exhaust our friend, Dev. Why don’t you follow me this way to your new room Simon?”

Simon stood and followed the two out of the dungeon and into the main stairway of the castle. He wasn’t sure why he was being given a room here. It seemed stupid, really, to give a prisoner a tour of the castle. He supposed the beast had enough confidence in his own abilities to stop Simon so as to allow this.

“Baz has allowed you to roam the castle as you wish,” Niall said.

“Baz?” Simon asked.

“That is the name of the man you met earlier today,” Dev said.

“Oh.”

It shouldn’t have surprised Simon that Baz would have a name. In fact, Simon felt a bit like an ass for not having inquired about it sooner.

“So I can go wherever I’d like?” Simon asked.

“Yes, except for the West Wing," Dev said.

Simon watched as Niall kicked Dev in what was meant to be a subtle gesture. Dev’s clock face screwed up in panic before he settled back into his normal facial expression. Niall laughed nervously.

“He means that the West Wing is unavailable. It’s far too damaged to be safe for anyone now. You’d likely fall through a hole the second you got there.”

Simon didn’t have to be a genius to know that they were lying to him. He filed that observation for later, knowing he’d be exploring a lot more than just the West Wing. He planned to escape by sundown.

They stopped outside of a door that looked much like the other hundred or so they had already passed. Niall ushered him inside of a room that was bigger than his house at home. The bed alone seemed to be the size of a room, all deep red bedding and dark wood posts. The wallpaper was a deep green with silver emblems that swirled as if they were alive. There was a large armoire to one side of the room and a sitting area on the other. A large window showed a view of the frozen gardens outside. It was a rather disorienting sight.

Simon swallowed loudly.

“This is…ornate.” Niall smiled, taking Simon’s tone as an expression of satisfaction.

“Baz wanted us to give you the best room in the palace.”

“I’m sure,” Simon murmured as he looked for an escape route in the room.

“Well,” Dev said, “I think we’ve bothered you enough for now. Dinner will be served in one hour. Please be ready to be escorted downstairs at that time.”

Simon paused. He knew he needed to find a way out of this strange castle but the idea of food was tempting. He’d been given only dry bread and old cheese the night before. He imagined Baz was the type to have fancy courses served, living in a castle and all that. Simon found himself weighing his options. He could always escape in the morning, with a full stomach. In fact, that would probably be the smarter thing to do, who knew how long the journey back to civilization might take.

“All right,” Simon said.

Dev and Niall left him alone in the room. Simon watched them go and then sighed in relief as the door closed behind them. He was exhausted and the warm bed was incredibly inviting. He’d make sure to only close his eyes for a few minutes so as to not be late for dinner. Baz struck him as being of the punctual sort.

After what felt like a minute he felt someone tap his shoulder. He sat up and found the armoire standing over him. He jumped back a bit and then reminded himself that, for this castle, looming furniture was the norm.

“Oh, sorry to scare you sir. My name is Gareth.”

Simon nodded.

“Um, yeah. I’m Simon.”

Gareth backed up to his corner of the room.

“I just thought I should wake you for dinner, it’s starting in a few minutes.”

Simon looked out the window and saw that it was dark outside. He couldn’t believe he’d slept for an hour already.

“Oh, thank you.”

He stood and looked at the large mirror. He was still wearing his clothes from the village. A simple tunic fastened by a belt over dirty pants. He felt that his outfit would probably not go over too well at dinner.

“I have some clothing available for you if you’d like, sir.”

Simon turned and saw that Gareth had opened up his cabinet doors. Inside hung various outfits that were far too over the top for Simon’s comfort. He wanted to eat but not _that_ badly.

“Thank you but I think I’ll go down like this.”

Gareth shrugged and then settled.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Simon said.

A tray pushed into the room with a teapot on it. The teapot glanced at him and rolled its eyes.

“Merlin, couldn’t you have at least tried to look presentable?”

“Excuse me?” Simon said.

“My name is Penny. I’ll be escorting you to dinner. Don’t worry, I’ll get your tea later when you’re eating.”

Simon nodded.

“I’m Simon.”

She studied him for a moment, a small smile forming on her face.

“Yes, we all know your name. Trust me.”

He frowned at that and followed her out of the room. After a long period of walking down corridors and stairways, they finally reached the main dining area. A long table was set with only two dinner plates, one on each end of the table. Simon sat at the one closest to the door and spread his napkin on his lap.

In truth, he didn’t really want to share a meal with Baz. But food had always been a weakness of his and he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t try the food here at least once before he left. He could put up with Baz’s rude behavior for one evening if it meant eating a feast.

A minute or so later he heard footsteps down the hall, human ones. He swallowed nervously as the doors to the dining hall opened behind him. Baz entered the room and strolled to his seat on the other end of the table.

His black hair had been brushed and smoothed back. Instead of the ragged clothes he’d been wearing when Simon had first met him, he was wearing a suit of deep green with silver embellishments, reminding Simon of the wallpaper in his room. With his fangs hidden, he looked almost normal.

“Simon,” Baz acknowledged, fangs making their appearance.

“Baz,” Simon replied.

He wasn’t sure where they would go from here but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be pleasant.


	4. Dinner Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how much fun it was to write this fic, I hope all of you like it <3

**Baz**

His prisoner sat across from him, his eyes wild about the table. Baz could tell Simon was hungry; it was depressing to realize that was the only reason he was there. Still, he was there and Baz had to attempt to make a good impression if he wanted any hope of breaking the curse.

Niall was leading the trays into the room and helping Dev carry the plates onto the table. Normally Baz would have served himself but tonight he was trying to come off as the prince he was supposed to be. Manners had not been something he’d had to consider for many years but he needed to make an effort now to call upon them. Simon looked jumpy and restless. Given Simon’s nervousness, the last thing Baz needed to do was act like the beast he appeared to be.

“You know, we usually sing for Baz during dinner,” Niall said.

“That is a lie,” Baz said.

Dev shook his head.

“Mr. Snow, please do not listen to my friend here, we are not the singing type.”

Simon smiled at the two of them, obviously amused by the bickering. It wasn’t a big smile and it wasn’t like he had perfectly white teeth or anything like that, yet Baz felt a surge of admiration just the same. This new sensation was troubling for him; in fact, his natural inclination would have been to resist it. But with time running out and a household of people depending on him, he couldn’t really set his feelings aside.

“I hope you enjoy the food here,” Baz said.

Simon’s eyes widened.

“Oh, uh yes. I’m sure I will.”

The table was set and ready for them to eat. Baz felt hesitant. He knew his fangs had already been made obvious to Simon but eating was always a ghastly affair for him. His fangs didn’t end cutely at the tip of his bottom lip like they might on a cat. For Baz, his fangs were long and terrifying, a feature that increased in severity during mealtimes. He was about to apologize in advance for what was going to be an animalistic display when he noticed that Simon had wasted no time getting into the food. Simon’s plate had been overloaded with meat and potatoes and his mouth looked as if it had an entire serving shoved inside it.

Baz frowned. In his fantasies he’d always imagined falling for a man of grace. If Simon Snow were indeed the one for him, then he certainly wasn’t going to get his fantasy.

“I suppose I’ve been away from the village for a long time,” Baz murmured.

“What do you mean?” Simon asked.

“I’ve just never seen someone eat like you do.”

Simon’s face went red. After the embarrassment passed, his mouth turned down into a scowl.

“Who are you to judge?”

Baz flinched as he realized Simon was referring to the grotesque length his fangs had reached. He could feel the points touching the center of his chin. He supposed it was a fair comeback, but it still stung.

“Yes, it’s funny isn’t it? A monster like me somehow has better table manners than a gentleman like yourself.”

Simon looked down at his food, his expression indicating that he was deciding whether or not the food was worth weathering the company.

“I thought we might try to be civil to one another,” Simon mumbled, “We are going to be spending a lot of time together.”

Baz sighed.

“You’re right. It’s just that I’m not used to having company, especially company like you.”

“Uncultured, you mean?” Simon asked.

“No, authentic.”

Simon raised his eyebrows.

“Are you complimenting me?”

Baz rolled his eyes.

“Barely. I still think you eat like a pig.”

Simon laughed. The sound was strange to hear for Baz. He hadn’t heard anyone laugh in earnest at the castle in a very long time. For some strange reason it reminded Baz of his mother. Although certainly more serious than Simon seemed to be, she also laughed at the oddest of times. The effect of the sound went beyond just Baz. He could sense the energy in his friends lifting, the buzz of elation slowly spreading throughout the room. Perhaps Simon really was changing things for the better.

“Still,” Simon interrupted, “I’m not sure authentic is really the right word to describe me. You barely know me.”

“I have a feeling that won’t be true for long,” Baz said.

“I’ve let a lot of people down by signing up for this,” Simon said, gesturing to the castle with his hand.

“How so?”

Simon sighed.

“I’m the most powerful mage of my time. I’m supposed to be protecting everyone. Not dining in strange castles under even stranger circumstances.”

Baz frowned.

“Protect them from what?”

Simon bit his lip.

“I’m not really sure. The prophecies say that something evil is coming, something that wants to keep magic for itself. I’m the only one that can stop it.”

Baz glanced at the food on the corner of Simon’s mouth and the utter disarray of his plate.

“Okay, I get it. I don’t look like it, but I promise I’m the Chosen One.”

Baz smiled mockingly.

“The Chosen One, isn’t that a tired phrase?”

“I didn’t choose it,” Simon muttered, obviously annoyed.

Baz could feel the walls coming down in the conversation. Simon didn’t want to go into further detail about his past and Baz didn’t want to get further into Simon. He felt nervy and exhausted by the short bit of conversation they’d already had. All in all, Baz considered it to be a mild success. He didn’t feel like pushing his luck any further for the evening.

He stood up quickly to excuse himself. His standing up seemed to startle Simon, causing him grab at his side. The movement seemed strange until Baz remembered that Simon kept a sword there sometimes. Hurt flashed across his face before he could control it as he realized Simon had reacted out of fear. Fear of him, the Beast. He watched as Simon read Baz’s emotions right off of his face.

“I-I’m sorry. It was instinctual. I’m actually very jumpy,” Simon said.

Baz put up a hand to stop Simon’s apology.

“It’s fine. I know how unpleasant I can be.”

Simon stood up.

“That isn’t what I meant, I only meant that I-“

“Goodnight Simon,” Baz said, cutting him off.

As he walked out of the room Simon put a hand out to stop him. For a moment Simon’s warm hand gripped Baz’s arm. The sensation felt pleasant, the first touch from a human that Baz had received in a very long time. But it was a touch out of guilt and pity; that knowledge made Baz recoil against it, ripping his arm out of Simon’s grip.

“Try to remember that you are not a common guest here,” Baz hissed, “You are my prisoner. It is in your best interest to realize your place here.”

He saw Simon’s expression flatten, watched all the emotion in his face die off. Baz had thought pity was the worst thing to see in Simon’s eyes. He had been wrong. Before he could make the situation worse, he stormed out of the dining room.

It was stupid of him to think anything could happen between them. Simon was a warm and attractive man, full of honor and loyal to his responsibilities. Even if Baz weren’t a monster, even if he could reveal himself as the prince he had once been, it wouldn’t matter. Baz was the man who had taken away Simon’s freedom, who’d forced him to carry out a sentence for a crime that his father had committed. No matter the circumstance, Baz would always be the person who took everything away from Simon. A couple of good conversations and some supportive furniture couldn’t change any of that.

He walked over to the rose and touched the glass longingly. This was the first time he’d ever truly wanted to break the spell, the first time he felt there might be something worth fighting for. But somehow, he felt further away from breaking the spell than he ever had before.

As he walked away for bed, another rose petal fell.


	5. Secrets and Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have pre-written from my tumblr :) Next chapter will be new content.

**Simon**

Simon knew he needed to leave, knew his escape had to happen tonight if he wanted even a chance of success. Still, he couldn’t quite kill off his curiosity about the West Wing of the castle. He figured that, so long as he was quick, he could visit the West Wing on his way out of the castle.

He dressed fully and tried to ignore the roving eyes of the furniture in the room. As he slipped out he summoned his sword to his side. If he was found by a certain meddling candelabra or clock, he planned to duel his way out of the castle. The hallways were dim as he made his way through the castle; the smell of must likely a byproduct of the lack of light in the whole of the place. With the shine of his sword he found himself in the West Wing of the castle.

The rooms seemed relatively normal, at least normal in the sense of matching the look of the rest of the castle. The one detail he found immediately out of place was the shredded painting that hung across from a long abandoned bed. He walked over to it and pushed the canvas together. He wished he could use a spell to repair it, from what he could tell a beautiful, young boy was depicted. With a sigh, he moved further into the room.

Another painting hung, but this one had been left completely untouched. A beautiful woman sat, regally, in the center of the painting. She had winding midnight, black hair and reddish brown skin. Her eyes, a piercing grey, were so intense that Simon felt that he was actually being watched. For a moment, he wondered if this piece of decoration was also alive.

“Hello, I’m Simon,” He whispered.

She remained silent, her condemning gaze unflinching. On her lap was a small baby with her same skin tone and a flick of black hair. His face was turned away, into her breasts, but Simon had the feeling this was the boy of the other, ruined painting. There was something sad about the painting, as if Simon could tell it was from a time that had long ago passed and was infinitely out of reach.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and suddenly he noticed a clear glass case on the balcony of the room. He walked closer to it, noticing something glowing within the frosted glass. As he reached the table, he realized the object within was a rose. The movement that had caught his eye had been one of the rose petals falling softly to the surface of the table.

He had the desire to lift the glass and touch the rose, unlike any flower he had ever seen before. But something, and he really couldn’t say what it was, stopped his quivering hand from lifting the glass case. Instead he turned to leave the wing and find his freedom.

In the doorway stood Baz, his expression completely unreadable.

“You like breaking the rules, don’t you?” Baz asked.

Simon walked forward, slowly.

“When I want to, yes.”

Baz nodded, still not giving anything away.

“Should I make it clear to you? Why the rules exist in the first place?” Baz asked.

“Is that a threat?” Simon asked.

“Not really, but I can assure you, being here is threatening to your health.”

“Why is that?” Simon asked.

“I don’t just eat food, you know.”

Simon swallowed, rather loudly. He hadn’t taken into consideration that this room might be apart of Baz’s private quarters. He could only imagine what happened in these rooms and the images that flashed across his mind made his grip on the sword slick with sweat.

“The bed is untouched,” Simon said.

“Your point?”

“You don’t sleep here,” Simon said.

Baz tilted his head to the side.

“True. It doesn’t mean, however, that I don’t conduct…private business here.”

“I can go,” Simon said.

“I’m sure you will,” Baz said, dropping his gaze and letting his shoulders droop tiredly.

Simon knew then that Baz was onto what he was planning. Was on to it, and not showing any signs of wanting to stop him from leaving. Simon didn’t have the time, or the inclination, to read into that. Instead, he walked briskly towards the open doorway.

“Simon?” Baz asked.

“Yes?”

“That rose…if you should ever find yourself here again, don’t touch it.”

“I didn’t,” Simon said.

“I know,” Baz said.

They stood in silence.

“Beware of the wolves,” Baz said.

Then Simon was walking out of the West Wing, not daring to look behind him to see if Baz would follow.


	6. Blood and Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has taken me so long to update. School started for me last week. If you're not into blood drinking then this is def not the chapter for you. Also, as Baz is a beast and not specifically a canon vampire, I am not going with the whole vampire bite= turning into a vampire thing. I hope you enjoy this chapter! It feels so good to be working on this AU again :) <3

**Simon**

He hadn’t accounted for the cold. Traveling at night through the snow with no horse was exhausting and terrifying. The bite of the wind was enough to numb his skin and hamper his hearing. The frozen bits of snow were blinding him and he could feel that his skin was burning in places. Simon wasn’t sure he was even going in the right direction.

In the distance, there were howls.

When Baz had mentioned the wolves, Simon had thought it a bland cautionary statement, not an actual warning. But he could hear them, even over the deafening wind. They were closing in on him and he could do nothing to stop them.

He had his wand, but he’d never been very skilled with that, even if his power _was_ beyond imagining. He tried to steady himself in the snow and called for his sword. It appeared, but for once he was not confident that it would save him.

He saw their eyes before he saw anything else. The darkness and the snow around them made their eyes appear as if disembodied from the rest of them. The yellow eyes were steady on him, and then, the pack leader emerged.

If Simon had once thought of Baz as being a beast, he had been wrong. The wolf had a shiny pink scar, marring one of his eyes. His teeth were bared, a low growl escaping his throat.

Simon had been sure he was going to go home. Now he saw how foolish he’d been, as the wolves circled around him.

The wolf lunged.

Before Simon could use his sword, a dark figure came arcing into the clearing and landed on the wolf’s back. Before Simon had the chance to see what had joined them, the other wolves were on him.

He slashed and grunted as four full sized wolves attacked him. Eventually the mysteriously cloaked figure finished with the alpha and attacked the wolf to Simon’s left.

Simon heard a painful cry as he dispatched the last of his wolves. He whirled to see that the wolf the cloaked figure had been attacking had clawed his chest, blood already blooming and trickling into the snow. He strode forward and drove his sword into the wolf’s hide, killing it quickly.

He knew who it would be before the figure’s cloak was thrown back by the wind. With a sigh, he knelt next to him and tried to remember as much of the medical training that Agatha had taught him in the village as possible.

“You’re losing too much blood,” Simon said.

“Sort of ironic, isn’t it?” Baz said, blood staining his fangs.

Simon felt like he might pass out from the surrealness of it all. Baz was bleeding out in the middle of a blizzard and felt that it was somehow the time to make jokes.

“We need to get you back to the castle,” Simon said, hands useless as blood gushed over them.

“I’ll never make it,” Baz said, his expression strange, “Just go Simon. Go home. I release you.”

Simon froze.

“You…release me?”

Baz looked away.

“I don’t think I’ll be around long enough to continue to be your jailer. So yes.”

Simon felt strange.

“What about the others, in the castle?”

Baz flinched, regret washing over his features.

“You’re free to go but maybe…you could check in with them every once in a while, research an alternative way to break the curse?”

Simon bit his lip. He was not about to leave Baz bleeding out in the snow, but he was considering leaving once he’d deposited him safely inside. Surely they had a medic around somewhere in the castle. He didn’t need Simon and Simon could spend his time in the village figuring out a way to break the curse. But as he watched Baz’s eyelashes flutter, he realized he didn’t _want_ to leave him alone. Baz had risked his life to save him, even after Simon had broken his word. If that wasn’t honorable, Simon didn’t know what was.

“Come on, let’s go back to the castle,” Simon said.

Baz eyed him warily.

“I’ve let you go,” Baz said.

“And I’m letting myself back in, come on,” Simon said.

For a moment Baz just studied him, his expression unreadable. But then he was getting up and leaning gratefully on Simon.

“I can see it now,” Baz said.

“See what?” Simon huffed as he supported Baz’s entire weight.

“Why you’re the Chosen One,” Baz said.

**Baz**

Simon was cleaning his wounds with careful attention, his dark golden curls blocking the view of his eyes. Baz was not sure why Simon was here, or how long he intended to stay. But he knew he would never forget this. The way Simon gently washed away the blood, the way he froze whenever Baz winced from the pain. Simon Snow could skewer wolves with ease and clean wounds with tenderness. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

_Love a beast like you_ a cold part of himself whispered.

Baz felt the thought like an arrow through his heart. It was true, as good as Simon was, it would take a saint to love someone like Baz. Or a devil.

“You’ve lost too much blood,” Simon said.

“I’m a beast remember? I heal quickly,” Baz said.

Simon shook his head.

“You depend on blood as a source of your strength. Without enough of it, you won’t heal properly. You’ll just lose more blood,” Simon said.

“Until I bleed out,” Baz said.

Simon bit his lip.

“Until you bleed out, yes. We need to get you some blood.”

Baz leaned his head back on the pillows.

“Well I suppose that means I’m done for,” Baz said.

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed.

“And why is that?”

“I can’t hunt like this. And talking furniture, while very fun at parties, are not particularly skilled at hunting,” Baz said.

Simon glanced out the window.

“I could hunt something for you,” Simon said.

“Yes that would be smart. Go out in the woods you just escaped from to hunt for me.”

Simon sighed.

“I can’t help you if you don’t cooperate,” He said, frustrated.

Baz shrugged.

“I can’t be helped. There’s nothing for me in the castle to drink and it’s not safe for you to hunt. I can try to last until morning but…I think this might be it.”

Simon’s eyes had gone unfocused. It looked as if he had an idea. Baz could hear his heart rate go up and frowned, concerned.

“Simon what’s wrong?” Baz asked.

“There is something you can drink in the castle,” Simon whispered.

Baz did not immediately understand what he meant. When he did, he shuddered violently. He had never had human blood.

_“That_ is out of the question,” Baz said, tightly.

“You will do this or you will die,” Simon said, trying to control the fear in his voice.

“I could kill you Simon,” Baz said.

“I’m hoping that you won’t,” Simon said, throwing off his coat and beginning to unbutton the top of his shirt.

“You can’t…why are you doing this?” Baz asked.

Simon looked up at him.

“You’re in this position because of me. I have to do this, I have to try.”

Baz clamped his jaw, calling on all of his restraint. Simon had undone part of his white shirt, revealing a smooth column of golden skin. There were two moles there, as if begging to be bitten. Baz’s muscles tightened.

“I. Won’t. Do. This.”

Simon smirked sadly.

“Yes you will,” He said.

As he spoke he took the letter opener next to the bed and slashed a shallow cut at the base of his throat. It began to flow immediately, droplets falling on the bed like snow. Baz tried to hold back, did everything he could to resist the heady smell of his blood.

He roared, fighting to stop his fangs from snapping to attention and lengthening.

“It’s okay Baz, I trust you,” Simon said.

Baz wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

Simon must have seen the resolve in his eyes. He crawled further on to the bed, and straddled Baz around his waist.

“I’m not letting you die,” Simon said.

He pulled Baz to his neck and then there was nothing else to do except bite down.

Distantly, he heard Simon hiss as Baz sank his fangs into his skin. This was too much, Baz thought as he drank Simon’s blood. It had the tang of magic, so much more than anyone had the right to have. For a moment, Baz remembered what it was like to feel it, the magic in his veins. It made him want to drink deeper.

He wrapped an arm around Simon’s back, securing him closer. Baz wanted to get as close as he could get, wanted to bury himself in the magic of Simons blood. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“Baz,” Simon gasped, barely able to speak.

Baz felt that reverberate through him, all the way to his core. Simon needed him to stop, and he needed to keep Simon alive. With a great amount of effort, Baz drew away, breathing heavy.

Simon was practically limp in his arms. But he was breathing and blinking, blue eyes brighter now that the rest of him was pale.

“I knew you’d stop,” Simon whispered.

“You are a fool,” Baz snapped.

Simon laughed, and then he stopped, his eyelids fluttering.

“I think…I need to lie down.”

The wounds Baz had sustained were healing now, already closed. Baz gently placed Simon on the bed and rose.

“I’ll let you sleep,” Baz said.

Simon lifted his arm, hand outstretched weakly.

“Wait…you need to lie down.”

Baz lifted his shirt, revealing his unmarked chest.

“Your risky stunt healed me, I’m perfectly fine now.”

Simon studied him, eyes wide.

“You’re…amazing,” He said.

Baz felt both pleasure and pain zip through him. Simon should not think he was amazing, he should not think of him at all.

“Go to sleep. You can compliment me as much as you like in the morning,” Baz said.

Simon’s eyelids shut, as if by Baz’s command.

He stood there for a while, not able to move away.

“Thank you Simon,” He whispered.

Then he walked out to the balcony and sat across from the rose. There was a chance that Simon was capable of loving him, a chance that he could break the terrible curse. But as Baz watched another petal fall, he suddenly wondered if he wanted to put Simon through any of that.

Baz was in love with him. And if he loved him as much as he felt he did, wasn’t it better to let Simon go?


	7. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for how slow I am for updating this fic. I promise to be better about it after the Carry On Countdown :)

**Simon**

Simon woke up with a start, his neck sore. At first he wondered if he’d twisted it wrong or done something during the night and then, as he lifted his fingers to the source of the pain, the night before came rushing back to him.

“Does it hurt badly?”

Baz was sitting across the room from him, staring with wide, serious eyes.

Simon swallowed hard.

“Only a little.”

Baz nodded.

Somehow Simon felt that something was very wrong. He didn’t know why he thought so exactly, but it had something to do with Baz’s expression. Flashes of last night kept going through his mind, the wolves circling and Baz’s blood soaked shirt standing out in his memory.

“Do you feel better?” Simon asked.

Baz stood and walked out towards his rose in the glass.

“I do,” he said, “Thank you, again.”

Simon nodded.

It felt awkward to talk to him now. After everything that had passed between them last night it felt as if the air was thick with tension. Simon couldn’t stop thinking about how, after everything else, Baz had come to save him. And then there had been the matter of giving Baz his own blood. It had hurt at first; though that hadn’t surprised him that much, he’d been prepared for the pain. But then his whole body had gone fuzzy and he’d felt like he was floating.

Simon’s blood was rushing in Baz’s veins, a thought that caused Simon’s cheeks to flush with warmth.

“Something wrong?” Baz asked.

“No,” Simon said, “I Just don’t know where we stand.”

Baz looked away.

“Look I…I’m letting you go.”

Simon frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Baz’s hands clenched into fists.

“I don’t want to hold you here as a prisoner anymore,” he said, “For one thing, you’re not very good at it.”

Simon smirked.

“But,” Baz continued, “More importantly, you’re different from your father. I can’t keep you here to pay for his crimes.”

Simon felt his heart thump unevenly.

“You’re setting me free then, for good?”

Baz nodded solemnly.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to go and I’ll have a carriage prepared.”

Simon nodded.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave though. The idea of going back to the village, back to Agatha, and back to his _father_ made his stomach twist. He didn’t want to face them after what his father had done to him. Besides, there was a part of him that didn’t want to say goodbye to Baz.

“I think I should stay though,” Simon said, “At least for a little while. So I can gain my strength.”

He pointed to the bite on his neck.

Baz flinched a little bit.

“Yes of course,” he said, “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. I’ll go fetch you some breakfast.”

Baz started to leave the room.

“Baz?” Simon asked.

Baz’s back was to him and his hand was on the door. The muscles in his back looked as tense as he’d ever seen them.

“Why don’t you bring your own breakfast up? That way we can eat together.”

It was silent for so long that Simon thought Baz might actually refuse his request. But, finally, he nodded and abruptly left the room.


End file.
